


Light Years Away From You

by tagatha (tag)



Category: Dredd (2012), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Codependency, Infinity Gauntlet snap, Kylux Adjacent Ship, M/M, Techienician, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2020-02-26 01:53:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18714130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tag/pseuds/tagatha
Summary: The First Order were not spared from the snap.





	Light Years Away From You

**Author's Note:**

> You don't need to be familiar with the Marvel Avengers movies to read this, but it helps. Just know a powerful titan killed half the living things in the galaxy by snapping his fingers and they were eventually restored. No thanks to The Force.

Techie is halfway through beta shift when the _feeling_ of klaxon alarms goes off, but none actually do. It’s an anxious itch, a burn in his thighs that makes him want to crouch under his workstation.

A healthy respect for his own survival instincts makes his fingers skip across the console, flipping switches and cranking dials to view as many internal feeds as he can. 

“ _What_ are you doing?” Dercan asks flatly. 

“There’s something wrong,” Techie says. 

“Indeed, you’re going to give us all a seizure, that’s what’s wrong.”

Techie spares a glance at Dercan’s panel. “You haven’t seen any alerts? No, no calls?” 

“While you’ve been sitting right here beside me all shift? No.” 

The feeds show normal ship life, boring and orderly, optimal conditions. Officers at their stations, operators at their relays. In the hanger bay below, troopers in their columns, TIEs in their racks. Everywhere, droids underfoot. No one panicking, no strobes, no blaster fire.

Techie apparently the only crew member with shaking hands and sweat prickling at his temples. 

“Murth, any un-unusual reports? From the royal transport?”

Murth, unworried and _professional_ , thank you, shakes her head slowly as she double-checks the arrival manifest. 

“All clear, they’re disembarking now. What’s up?”

“I, I don’t..” Techie doesn’t know how to answer Murth’s patient eyebrow raise. 

He looks over at Dercan again and swallows. It’s worth the harassment he’s about to get. 

“Seriously?” Dercan sneers as Techie ratchets to the only feed he really cares about. “You’re going to get reprimanded, _again_.”

“Whatever,” Techie mutters, squinting so his bionics focus through the dark of the array modulator. There’re technicians milling all over it, all in the same grey overalls. He flips to another view.

“Oh yes, I forgot, when you’re the Admiral’s little _pet_ , reprimands don’t mean much.”

Techie grimaces. Unlike the rest of them, Dercan only landed his position because he’s unfit for rank but his father’s on the council. Possibly too inbred to understand the irony.

“I’m not his, his pet. I just report, and not even, shut, _shut up-_ ” Techie stops. Fighting both Dercan _and_ his rising nausea isn’t productive.

He toggles to another view at the end of the modulator and finally spots it: Matt’s bright shag of gold hair. It’s stuffed with the rest of him between two extricated panels. He zooms in, close enough to see Matt’s face dotted with the shine of teal indicator lights along with his beauty marks. He’s sweaty too, along his hairline and under the scoops of his lenses. But he’s fine. Well, he’s scowling and mouthing curses, but that’s not out of the ordinary. 

Techie sits back, his pulse beating slightly less wildly. 

“Ugh,” Dercan remarks.

“Congratulations are once again in order, Techie,” Murth says, leaning away from her own monitors on the other side of the skyscape. “You secured a hot body.” 

“Can’t say the same for that face,” Dercan is quick to add. 

Murth stands smoothly from her station before Techie can ungrind his teeth to reply. 

“Don’t you have a mirror in your bunk, Derc?” she asks lazily, crossing her arms, emphasizing the breadth of her impressive shoulders. She wears the light fatigues of the Watchers best out of anyone in their section, marching confidently through the halls of the _Triumph_ while Techie still skitters like a mouse droid through access routes to avoid the crew’s suspicious stares. 

Dercan opens his stupid thin-lipped mouth to insult Murth, and Techie, and everything Techie loves and then he.. disintegrates. 

Techie’s eyes whirr, trying to focus on the place Dercan was just standing. There is nothing but floor grating and fading dust. 

“What the..Techie..,” Murth whispers, and she looks so sad while she too disappears into a curtain of ashy.. nothing. 

It’s shouting from the primary hanger bay far below that draws Techie out of his breathless shock. He stumbles to the skyscape windows, tinted and half forgotten behind their ever-growing towers of monitoring equipment.

The battalions of stormtroopers in formation to receive the Supreme Leader’s transport are disintegrating in uneven spots and patches, like white teeth falling out of a giant skull. The ones who remain are ripping off their helmets, running across the lines, shouting designations and nicknames. Order decaying as fast as the troopers. 

Techie’s bionics give him a brutally intimate view of the royal escort on the ramp of the _Aggressor_. And of the Supreme Leader grabbing uselessly as Lord Admiral Hux drifts gracefully through his fingers. The Supreme Leader’s face is a screaming horror as he whirls around, cloak flaring, lightsaber igniting like there is anything to fight. 

“No,” Techie breathes uselessly. He nearly breaks an ankle running back to his console. 

Matt is gone from between the panels. Techie swears and tries switching the feeds but his hands are shaking like someone has him by the wrists. 

“Damn it!” he sobs, banging his fist on the panel and finally getting the dial turning.

Before their shift Matt had fucked him long and close, grinning crookedly and watching his face like Techie’s winces were the most captivating things on the ship. He’d been overwhelmed by Matt’s big hands on his shoulders, Matt’s wide waist between his thighs. Grounded by Matt’s weight, and his groans, and his sure, slick cock. 

He’d gotten out of the fresher and Matt had crushed against him again, nipped at the skin under his ear, sniffing out another slow morning jerk. Techie had slipped out of his hold, chirping about being late when Matt pawed at his ass.

_“Come on, Tech. Just let me see at least.”_

And Techie had let Matt bend him into their messy berth, spread his knees, thumb his cheeks apart. Matt had chuckled and hummed with satisfaction at the sight of Techie’s sore hole.

_”So sm-smug,”_ Techie had grumbled, rolling out of Matt’s hands to get dressed. As though he doesn’t love being claimed by Matt, like he didn’t want Matt’s tongue, wet and soothing.

He’d left Matt half-dressed and pouty, for what, so he could be on time to see the world end?

If he can’t find Matt he’s going to throw himself from the skyscape.

The modulator is just as awful as the hanger bay, half the technicians gone and the remaining panicking uselessly. All of them with neat regulation haircuts.

Techie takes a deep breath and closes his eyes to reset his variable optics. He needs to think like Matt. If he was Matt and half the crew started disappearing, what would he do? Aside from celebrate?

He’d be doing exactly the same thing as Techie, of course. 

He immediately locates Matt, whole and enraged, crashing like a rancor through the sub tunnels on his way to the hanger bay. Techie yells wretchedly in relief, his legs nearly collapsing, bracing himself on the console. 

He stumbles into the transporter, out of the haunting quiet of the skyscape, and descends. 

*

Matt pants as he sprints through the loading bays to the main hanger, spinning lost-looking troopers and operators out of his way. 

The _Triumph_ is both disordered and strangely barren at the same time. Truthfully, Matt’s fine with random crew getting rubbed out by a giant unseen thumb. He’d watched Aalto Lotta, that prick, evaporate while bent undignified over a duplexer and it’d been like a wish come true. 

But he needs to tell Techie about it. Quickly. He needs to find Techie, even if it’s the middle of their shift and Techie will be upset and twitchy when Matt shows up at his ‘secret’ post Matt is definitely not supposed to know the location of. Matt’ll deal with that after he has Techie in his sights. 

Whenever he blinks, Matt can see Techie’s lanky shoulder cupped into his hand. It’s always a good fit, the skin soft under his calloused fingers. Easy to run his hand up into Techie’s hair, spark a shy smile. His chest hurts from running harder than he has since he was a grunt, but also from the clenching, impossible thought of never having Techie’s head resting on it again.

Right now, he really needs to see Techie. Techie always knows what’s going on. Smartest guy Matt’s every met: he even found the Resistance for Admiral Hux. Techie will know what to do.

Besides, Matt’s supervisor has ceased to exist, so who else is going to give him kriffing orders?

Matt skids into the yawning hanger bay, scattered with confused troopers and one spindly lieutenant trying to herd the remaining squad leaders.

No one else seems distracted by Kylo Ren annihilating the ramp of the his sleek royal transport. He keeps slashing at it with his lightsaber, screaming like an animal in tune with the sizzling metal, sparks spraying in angry spits higher than his head.

Kylo Ren suddenly stops, black hair streaked across his closed eyes like a rake of claws, and reaches into the air with his free hand. Nothing happens at first, then Kylo Ren screams so hard his nose drips blood and his feet leave the ground, toes dangling and legs shuddering. 

The scattering of crew are paying attention now, the struts of the enormous hanger bay groaning like a giant fist is closing around it. Matt looks to the magnetic shield housing keeping the cold maw of space at bay and swears. He’s not sure, but not only is the structure shuttering, it’s looking.. _dusty_. 

He needs to find Techie. 

Matt finds him easily enough, down from his spy tower, cowering against a static frequency converter. He’s pale as his uniform, trembling hands covering his mouth as his eyes dart around like they’re glitching out. 

“Tech!” he yells, pulling Techie off his feet and into a spinning clutch. He smells like sharp sweat and caf, and Matt sucks it in like ambrosia.

“You’re alive,” Techie mumbles wetly into his neck. 

“Yeah, for now. What in the four hells is going on?” Techie will have answers.

“I don’t- I don’t _know_ ,” he chokes, to Matt’s disappointment. He pulls away enough to clumsily push Techie’s hair out of his face. It feels weird to be touching him so intimately in the open, echoing vastness of the hanger bay but Matt isn’t letting go for all the credits in this system. Techie’s eyes spin and contract, sockets frantic red. Matt can’t help putting a sloppy kiss on his wrinkled brow.

“What do you need to figure it out?” he tries to ask calmly. 

“I can’t think, please, can we please get out of here?”

There’s a lurch that can only be the ion thrusters cutting out. Hopefully. He can’t see Kylo Ren from here, but the smell of smoldering metal is getting stronger, and the troopers around them are freezing in waves to look up at the high ceiling. The neat web of access bridges above is hazy, and Matt sees what can only be a constellation of stars shining through the dark durasteel. 

“Okay, come on,” Matt says, and considers slinging Techie over his shoulder. Techie might puke down his back though, so he settles for keeping Techie under his arm, shoulder secure in his hand as he pulls Techie away from the chaos and into a sub tunnel.

“Even, even their armour, why would their armour go too? Even Admiral Hux’s hat went,” Techie is muttering.

“Kylo Ren didn’t go, is it a force thing?” 

Techie shakes his head, a piece of his sun-bright hair catching in his mouth. 

“Who?” he asks. 

*

Matt stops pulling him along the unfamiliar grey corridor. There’s a glow of a red-orange star at the other end, and it glints off the frames of Matt’s lenses, his sweat-slick temple. As Techie admires Matt’s lovely, somber features, two tears roll up and out of Matt’s big warm eyes. 

“You’re the only one I’ve ever loved,” Matt tells him.

Techie laughs. “Well, yeah, you’re the one my heart beats for.” Matt’s tears wet his cheek too when he pushes their faces together, kisses the corner of Matt’s troubled mouth.

Techie feels like there is something he needs to do. He’s so tired though. Like he made it through to the other end of a panic attack and his body is ready to sleep for years. He starts towards the gentle starlight but a hand holding his teathers him back and he bounces into Matt’s solid torso with a splash.

The ground is wet but not deep enough to top his boots, so it’s fine. A little disconcerting he can’t see through the water, to gauge what he’s actually standing on, but it’s solid enough. 

“I will save you, _I will save you!_ ” a man declares beside him, making Techie jump. But the man is yelling it into the sunset sky, clouds rolling as though away from his hoarse yells. The cruel-looking laser weapon disintegrating from the man’s hand turns the yelling into wordless sobs. He wears a familiar-looking crown of steel rings and black stones but it falls into dust out of his damp hair as the cries wrack through him. 

“Who’s that guy? He’s freaking me out,” Techie whispers. 

“That’s.. Kylo Ren,” Matt says, but he’s frowning like he’s not sure. 

People stream around them in swells, but the water under their feet hardly ripples. Techie fits his nose into Matt’s neck and watches the crowds over his shoulder, no one paying them any attention at all. Odd to see Twi’lek children and old Gungans mingling with officers fruitlessly commanding the orange-red eclipse. A woman with long brown-red hair kneels in the water beside them, staring broken-heartedly at her hands. Techie blinks and she’s drifted away, replaced by a sharp-eyed man in a cape, looking bored.

“No, Tech, don’t let go,” Matt tells him and Techie looks down to their clasped hands, realises he was wandering towards the arched gate in the distance, silhouetted against the mountain ridge. 

It feels good to be holding a hand though. A big, enveloping hand, palm a little swampy but not uncomfortable. He wants to wrap his arms around the strong chest but the man says no, hold my hand, don’t let go. So he does that, and they sway together in an awkward lock, an island in the shifting souls around them.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to the organizers of Kylux Adjacents month! Really enjoying what's being created and appreciate the motivation to finish a lingering WIP. <3
> 
> Title from [Light Years by The National](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5FQtSn_vak0)


End file.
